For ten years I was his wife in every way, except for one thing – our official marriage. When I asked him for a signature, he just laughed, “It’s just a piece of paper.” The next morning, his smile disappeared.

Michael picked up the document.

The blood drained from his face.

“What does that mean?”

I picked up my suitcase.

“It’s just a card  paper“Michael.”

“You’re serious? Do you want to waste ten years through one conversation?”

“No. I’m leaving because one conversation opened my eyes to the truth about those ten years.”

He began to say that he loved me, that the wedding didn’t matter and that we were already  family.

But for the first time, I understood what his words really mean.

“We are family” – when it suited him.

“That’s your problem” – when I needed protection.

I left the house.

Three days later, Michael proposed to me.

He sent a ring and a bouquet of flowers.

I sent them away.